Know Me: A 'Me' Novel (Book 3) (A 'Me' Series)

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Know Me: A 'Me' Novel (Book 3) (A 'Me' Series) Page 10

by Jeri Williams


  Back up…

  First I had to process that, wow, the gossip mill knew no limit, and second, oh my god, my mother not only knew I had gotten it on with Matt at Taste but she had known about the break up too! And third, oh my god my mother knew I had gotten it on with Matt at Taste!

  “Mom…” I was at a loss for words. I mean, she knew and I’m just now hearing from her?

  “I mean I’m all for makeup sex, but Ember, use your head. You and Matt are in the public eye more than most people your age and you can’t open the door for scandals like that. I’m happy you two came to your senses and fixed whatever it was but do it in the privacy of your own home next time.”

  “Wait, Mom... I don’t… I’m sorry; I’m still processing ‘I’m all for makeup sex’. Gross overshare, Mom. And anyway, you have it all wrong. Matt and I are still… I mean we are still…” Crap, how was I supposed to say we were still broken up when she obviously knew we’d had a moment at Taste?

  She was right; she had taught me that. Through all the deceit and lies between my parents, she still knew how to keep her phony dignity. I couldn’t just tell her that not only did I allow that to happen and enjoyed it more than I should, but that it wasn’t even about making up. It was just about…hell, I didn’t even know what it was about. And even if I did tell her it wasn’t about making up, how was I supposed to then explain us still living together? Bottom line, I couldn’t .

  Call me a coward, but it was just easier to go along with it for now, at least until I could decipher my mixed feelings enough to have a clearer plan other than make Matt pay. So instead of admitting the truth, I simply agreed to be more careful and never let anything like that happen again and sent her on her way with a kiss to the cheek.

  Coward, party of one, your bed is made.

  Piss my life.

  Matt

  “You look like shit. Did Mika give you shit for leaving?” I asked as Spence crammed his big ass into my passenger seat. I had a truck, and the interior wasn’t small, but Spence’s large frame made it feel like a clown car.

  “Nah, she went to work this morning, thank fuck. I was just trying to get some sleep. You try handling a psycho all night and you would look the same bro.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and scratched his chin where he had started to grow a beard. He was trying to be like me.

  “What set her off this time?” Mika is complicated. I still didn’t know the full length of her crazy, but she gets insanely paranoid and then goes into these rage outbursts. Spence has had to hold her down from destroying their place on more than one occasion.

  “Her dad,” was all he said, and that was enough. They both grew up in the harder part of town and Mika’s dad was a well-known drunk and an asshole . Growing up with a drunken abusive asshole of a father, Mika and Spence have known each other all their lives; they have that kind of love to hate to I’d fucking kill for you type of relationship and have been through a lot. I didn’t get it, but he did.

  “Dude, when are you going to...?”

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” he warned in a deadly tone. This wasn’t new; we argued about this all the time. I wanted more for him, better than taking shit jobs here and there and following Mika’s crazy ass around with her equally crazy life. I got it, he loved her, but there had to come a point where he loved her enough to help her instead of enabling her .

  “Spence, man. I’m not saying leave her…”

  “What, like you left Ember?” he spat, the asshole.

  That was a nutsack blow, and he knew it. It was his way of saying he didn’t want to talk about Mika and him. Fair enough, because I’d hate to have to bust his lip. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and we remained silent the rest of the drive, him in his head and me in mine. I parked outside my childhood home and turned the car off, but made no move to get out.

  “So you doing this finally or what?” Spence asked, referring to me confronting my father, and just like that the tension from earlier was gone. That was the thing about Spence, he never held grudges against the people he truly loved, and he always had my back. He knew how short life was and didn’t hold on to petty shit.

  “Nah, I got guilted into checking on him from one of his managers.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t show up for a meeting and no one has heard from him.”

  “The old man never misses a chance to squeeze some change out of someone. Think he’s dead?” Shit, I’d asked myself that too on the way over and wasn’t sure what reaction I’d have if that was the case. After my mother’s death, he’d changed. She had always been the glue that held us together, even Deklan came back because of her, but without her, we were all lost.

  “Fuck if I know.” I sighed. I should stop being a punk about this shit and just get it over with. The fact that I’d dragged Spence here with me was punk move 101, but deep down I was nervous about what I’d find and wasn’t sure I’d be 100 if the shit went south. I needed Spence with me to pull my ass back from the deep end if that was the case.

  “Knuckle up bitch, let’s go.” So much like my brother. I followed him out of the car and took the lead. I could have used my key, but I rang the loud as hell doorbell to gauge what I was walking into. If he answered then I’d know he was okay and be on my way, if he didn’t, well…

  I waited and nothing. I rang it again and anticipation sweated my palms as I waited another beat before I fitted my key in the lock and opened the door.

  The stench of stale beer hit my nostrils first, causing my eyes to water.

  “It smells like stale pussy and beer in here .” Spence coughed. He couldn’t sugar coat shit.

  “Dad,” I yelled out and got crickets.

  I looked at Spence for a beat then we both darted up the stairs in search of…whatever. I’m not sure what made me, call it a hunch or if I believed in shit like that, I’d say it was my mother. But whatever it was, something made me head straight to the library, which had been converted into my mother’s sick room, the one where she had taken her last breath .

  There in the middle of the floor, in a pool of his own vomit, was Royce Kane, dry cleaning king and piece of shit. I walked over and noticed the slight rise and fall of his back that told me he was breathing, barely. What the hell was I supposed to do now? The bastard in me wanted to leave his ass there and let him figure this shit out when he woke up. Call me an asshole or whatever else, but looking down at him, I couldn’t think of anything beyond ‘fuck him’.

  I didn’t want to help him; I didn’t want to be obligated by familial ties to check on him. I didn’t want to care about him. I was done caring, and if that seemed too extreme, I didn’t give a shit. For years, he had intentionally hurt someone I loved, someone who had been my hero. I’d never tell him, especially now that he’d adopted the no feelings attitude, but my brother was still my hero. We had always been close growing up and even after he left, I still aspired to be like him, to adopt his zero fucks given attitude and stop trying so hard to be perfect all the time. Being perfect is tiring.

  I remembered the brother who taught me how to tie my shoes and how if I liked a girl, hitting her or pushing her down was not the way to show her I liked her. I remembered the brother that loved me, and this muthafucker, my father, had taken him away from me. I might have done my part in splitting the divide that had come between us by spewing that bullshit story to child services all those years ago, and that shit was on me. But Royce was the reason there was split in the first place and now, Deklan and I would never be the same.

  Even though all of this was at the forefront of my mind, years of being the ‘good son’ was too ingrained in me to just walk away.

  Shit.

  “He dead?” Spence asked as he came up beside me.

  “No.” Was that regret or relief in my voice? I couldn’t tell.

  “We leaving him or what?” I wanted so much to say yes; this wa
s what the prodigious Royce Kane always warned me my brother would become, a no good drunk, passed out in his own vomit. If I were a muthafucker, I’d leave him with a note saying something about how the mighty had fallen or some shit. But he was still my father, and whether it was that fact or loyalty for my mother, I bent down and grabbed his armpits, holding my breath against the order.

  “Get the other side,” I grunted at Spence, who mumbled, “Guess not,” and then went to grab his feet.

  “Put him over there.” I jerked my chin to my mother’s old hospital bed. What purpose would that serve other than my perverse pleasure I didn’t know, nor did I give a shit. Huh, guess I was a muthafucker after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ember

  “Ember.” I balanced my phone between my shoulder and ear while I turned the lock and opened the apartment door. I had been too busy searching for Matt’s truck to pay attention to the caller ID when I answered. Had I done that I would have avoided the call.

  “Hi Daddy.” The apprehension I’d been feeling at coming home to Matt had tripled upon hearing my father’s voice. I’d rather deal with Matt.

  It wasn’t that Kerry Harrington struck fear in the heart of people; it was that he struck fear in the heart of me. Don’t get me wrong, he loved me and I was his daughter, but I was also the result of a mistake. He would never say it, but I knew he hated what I represented. His lapse in judgment and the loss of the one person he truly loved. I would feel sad for him sometimes. When I’d see him look at me, I think I reminded him of my aunt in some ways, but then a voice in my head would chastise me for feeling sad for him. It’s not my fault my father couldn’t keep it in his pants.

  “I know we haven’t had our usual Thursday night meetings recently, but I’m calling to confirm. I also am letting you know that there will be a change of plans for tomorrow night. We will have dinner in town this time.”

  Since the time I could drive, my father has been taking me on weekly father daughter dinners in neighboring towns, which were really just a cover for him meeting some woman who I naturally assumed was a whore because she’s knowingly involved with my father, who is a well-known married man. But I now know that love, well that makes you insane sometimes. I found this out on our third ‘dinner’ after he’d driven me to some diner and disappeared on me for 45 minutes. I’d followed him to the motel across the street and saw a whole lot of him than I’d ever, ever wanted to see in my life. Ever.

  It took me five more disappearing acts to finally confront him about it. Do you know what he asked?

  “How much do you want?” Yeah, he thought I, his daughter, was going to blackmail him in keeping his secret. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t keen on him doing this to my mother, but I also wasn’t stupid. My parents had never been happy, and I knew that them still being married was just a front. I loved my father and I would have never betrayed his trust like that, but instead of telling him that, I had quietly told him I wouldn’t tell a soul and silently cried out my hurt on the drive home.

  “Wait, in town?” I asked again, because the routine hadn’t changed in seven years. Seven years. And now he was. I wanted to think it was because he and his mistress had broken up, and he wanted to actually spend time with me, but who the hell was I kidding? My mother had visited me just this morning, so I was 1,000% sure it was my father’s turn for the what did you do, you better fix it lecture. I wised my parents would talk so that way I’d only have to endure the lecture once.

  “Yes and bring Matthew with you,” he commanded.

  “Wait, bring who?” Because one; we never had dinner super publicly. It was always in some small obscure place. Too many variables to consider in case anything happened if it were more popular. And two, bring Matt? That was so far down on my list of things I wanted to with my father.

  “Dad, I don’t think….”

  “It’s not up for discussion Ember. I expect you both promptly at 7:00. I’ll have my assistant text you with the details.” He didn’t even give me a chance to regurgitate my tongue, which I’d managed to swallow after his demand before he ended the call.

  Dinner? With my father and Matt, my ex-boyfriend who dumped me but is trying to win me back? Jut your average Thursday night.

  How was I going to convince him to go to dinner with me without it meaning anything? Better yet, how did I get him to come to dinner without him gloating?

  Three hours later I found myself greeting Matt at the door like some sick cross between a Stepford wife and my mother, glass of brandy and all, except we didn’t have brandy, just some old tequila, but it was still a shock for him to see me look at him with anything other than disdain for a change.

  “What’s this?” he asked cautiously as he took the glass from me. “Did you poison this?” He sniffed the drink and eyed me warily.

  “Really Matt, if I had wanted to poison you, do you think I’d make it so obvious?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Have you never seen Snapped?”

  “Drink it or not, I don’t care Matt.” This was getting me nowhere. I thought that if I were nice to him and then asked him sweetly, he’d do me this favor because he owed me, but who the heck was I kidding? Of course this would be harder than trying to pick up a penny with fake nails on.

  “So it’s Matt now?” He moved into the kitchen and, after sniffing the cup again (Seriously?) he chugged it down. I watched him from the doorway, thinking of a way around this. I really, really didn’t want to beg him for anything, but especially not for this.

  “That’s your name, Matt.”

  All of a sudden, he was in my space; I could have backed up but what good would that have done? He would have just followed me and really what message would I be sending? If I was going to grovel, I might was well stand my ground.

  “No baby, you have been walking around calling me Matthew just to piss me off. Now it’s Matt? What changed Rabbit?” He gripped both sides of my waist, pining me to him. “You’re done with your little game now?”

  “I was never playing any sort of game Matthew.” God, why did he have to be so…so…arrogant and…and... hot, no not hot, annoying. “Why do you have to be so annoying? Can’t I do something nice for my roommate?” I asked, shoving him back, which didn’t really move him so much as shift him. Solid bastard.

  “Am I annoying?” he asked as he bent his head, bringing his mouth dangerously close to my pulse point, which apparently chose now to beat out some erratic rhythm. Before I could even comprehend what tone exactly, I felt his tongue against my skin. Soft at first, tentatively like he was testing my reaction, which was skaksjdhlkak if you were wondering. When my reflex to push him away failed me, he dove back to my neck with a harder tongue swipe. I had no idea why my hand moved to grip his hair or where the soft moan that fled my lips came from.

  “I don’t think I’m that annoying Rabbit,” he said as he moved my neck where he wanted to give him better access as he slowly made his way up and down and then back up again. When did he become a master at necking; that’s what this was, right? Was he always such a master at this?

  Focus Ember!

  “I, I need a favor,” I managed in between embarrassingly audible moans.

  “I think I’m doing both of us a favor right about now.” He sucked on the overly sensitive part of my neck, behind my ear, and my mind went blank.

  “God, yes. I mean no, not this.”

  “Ask me later baby, I’m kinda busy.” The grip on my waist tightened, and he pulled me flush against his body and, oh yeah, he was defiantly liking this as much as I was. Maybe more. His hands moved to my ass, and he squeezed. If I didn’t get a handle on this, we would have a repeat of last night and that couldn’t happen.

  “Matt,” I stated more firmly, and he groaned.

  “Ember, you are making it really hard to try and seduce you here.”

  “I really need to talk to you about s
omething.” His hands kneaded my ass more, and I swear there was nothing in the world like Matt’s hand on my ass; his touch always gave me goose bumps, but his hands on my ass were explosive and caused my hand in his hair to involuntary flex and grip tighter. Matt was all about gripping tighter.

  “Later baby, I want to feel if you’re we…”

  “My dad wants you at dinner tomorrow night,” I blurted out because he was entering dirty talking, a shameful weakness of mine, and that combined with his hands on my ass, and I was halfway to orgasming in his arms.

  The mention of my father had the desired effect, and Matts lips and hands froze as he lifted his head to meet my eyes.

  “Come again?” And god did I want to, but rather than yelling out that dirty thought, I simply repeated my earlier request.

  “My father, he wants you to come to…”

  “I know what you said Rabbit, but I’m not sure I understand. Why does your father want me to come to dinner? And isn’t Thursday night his mistress night?” Although he had stopped kissing, his hand was still on my ass, and he still held me close while he barraged me with questions I didn’t know the answer to.

  My father and Matt had an understanding; they respectfully had a mutual dislike for one another. Matt couldn’t respect him because he didn’t like the fact that not only was he unfaithful, but he also used me. My father didn’t approve of Matt because he felt that Matt was using me and would break my heart. Well, pot meet kettle because you’re both boiling over— or something like that.

  “My mother paid me a visit and long story short, because of the gossip mill around this town, she still thinks we are back together.”

  “We are,” he stated adamantly.

  “Matt, we aren’t.” I hit him with a look that I hoped conveyed how serious I was, but judging by the look on his face, it didn’t.

  “The point babe? Your father and dinner, how?” He was getting impatient. Waiting was never one of his strong suits unless it was in bed; there he took his time.

 

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